Adulting
by Evil Cosmic Triplets
Summary: Jackson isn't sure he likes being an adult as much as he thought he would. Stiles shows him that being an adult is very worthwhile.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters of this work of fiction, and am not making a profit, monetary or otherwise, through the writing of this.

 **A/N:** Written for my, "I Am An Adult" series, and for SpaghettiTacos who suggested the pairing of Jackson and Stiles. Not a pairing I've written before. This is AU. This is also smut.

* * *

"We're adults now," Jackson says, voice gruff and defensive.

Stiles wraps an arm around his lover's waist, and squeezes. He leans in close, and kisses the corner of Jackson's mouth, and pulls back. "Yes, yes, we are. We're official adults. With diplomas. Part-time jobs. Our own apartment. Rent due in a month. Queen sized bed where we can have sexy times. Adults."

Stiles sighs and rests his head on Jackson's chest, runs his fingers through the soft, downy hair. "We're adult, adults. Adulting, but not adulterating."

Jackson groans, but laughs, and pulls Stiles closer. "I don't know if I like adulting as much as I thought I would."

Stiles presses his lips to Jackson's throat, works his way up to his mouth, fingers gently playing with the hair on Jackson's chest, making him moan, and squirm beneath their new sheets, bought for their new bed that had gone in their new apartment.

"I like adulting just fine," Stiles says, a little breathless, smiling at the way that Jackson swallows, and shivers. Jackson's eyes are dark, and Stiles feels like he could drown in them if he stared into them long enough.

"I like adulting with you," Jackson says, voice husky.

Stiles dips his head, and Jackson's toes curl, and his back arches when Stiles licks and nips at Jackson's piercing - a silver infinity loop through Jackson's left nipple; Stiles has a matching one in his guiche piercing - part of a gift package that Scott and Isaac had given them as a pre-wedding gift at their bachelor party.

"Better not like adulting with anyone else," Stiles says, growling playfully and tugging on the infinity ring with his teeth. "You're all mine, Jackson Whittemore-Stilinski."

"Fuck, Stiles," Jackson says, breathless, back arching, fingers clutching at the sheets when Stiles sinks his teeth into the flesh surrounding the piercing hard enough to leave teeth marks, and bruise. "Shit. Warn a guy, would you?"

"What's the fun in that?" Stiles asks, arching a brow, and licking at the nipple he'd just assaulted with his teeth, soothing some of the pain, and driving Jackson wild with lust.

"'s why I bought the sheets," Jackson says, panting through the mixture of pleasure-pain that Stiles is giving him as the brunette works his way down Jackson's torso, toward Jackson's straining, leaking cock with teeth, tongue, and lips. Jackson can't quite place Stiles' fingers. Mostly because they seem to be everywhere at once. Like freaking ninja fingers. On crack.

"Why'd you buy these sheets, babe?" Stiles asks in a seductive whisper, breath ghosting over the head of Jackson's cock, making it jerk, and pulse, in response as Stiles settles himself between Jackson's legs.

"Wanted to...wanted...wanted..." Jackson swallows, throws his head back, and his hands fly to Stiles' head, fingers twining with his newly christened husband's hair as Stiles wraps his lips around the head of his cock, sealing it within a warm, wet cavern. "Wanted...ohfucgudjustdontstop...shiuckguuh...uh...uhnghu...wahnnnnnn...guh...guh...Stiles!"

Skin slick with sweat, and body throbbing from his second release of the day, Jackson flops back on the bed, lets his legs fall wide, and closes his eyes.

Stiles' body is a welcome weight draped across his, and he pulls his lover into his arms, plays with the hair on the back of Stiles' neck, and relishes this moment. A moment that, had he gotten his way in high school, when he'd been foolish and brash (an idiot by any other name...is still an idiot), he'd have never experienced. There isn't a day that goes by that Jackson doesn't thank his lucky stars, or the moon herself, that he chose Stiles over becoming a wolf.

"You were saying?" Stiles asks, lips brushing against Jackson's neck in a way that makes him shiver.

"About the sheets," Stiles prods when Jackson doesn't answer right away.

Tired, and content just to lie with Stiles and forget about everything, Jackson almost doesn't answer, but Stiles pokes him in the side, and Jackson knows that if he doesn't say something now Stiles will just keep poking him until he does. It's one of the annoying-cute-annoying things that Jackson loves about Stiles. An almost bulldog-like persistence that leads to him getting his own way more often than not.

Jackson stifles a yawn and stretches, thinks about what he's going to do to Stiles as payback for the blowjob. Something that will make the man writhe, and beg, and scream Jackson's name loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

"Wanted to surprise you," Jackson says, fighting to stay awake, to explain. "I thought," yawn, "since we're adults now, and we have our," yawn, "own," yawn, "place, we should have -"

"Avengers sheets to match the bland, off-off white, yellow-stained walls?" Stiles interrupts.

Jackson envies his lover's seemingly endless supply of energy, even as his eyelids lose the battle to gravity and remain closed. He murmurs, "Yeah. Wanted to show you that we're adults. We can sleep on Avengers sheets if we want to..."

"And do naughty, naughty things in, and on, and with them, too," Stiles supplies, voice thick, and muffled against Jackson's chest.

Jackson sighs, grips Stiles tight, and falls asleep to the sound of laughter, soft and rumbling through his chest where Stiles' presses up against his. For a moment, suspended between sleep and wakefulness, Jackson imagines that he and Stiles share the same heart as his skips a beat to fall into sync with Stiles'.


End file.
